Jehan and Enjolras spun across the stage as the chorus members warmed up their bodies and voices. Jehan laughed at Bossuet who tripped over his own feet but was rescued by Joly. The new owners of the Opera House were chatting up the resident starring tenor, Courfeyrac. Courfeyrac was the classic diva; it was all about him, all the time. He was loud, obnoxious, conceited but extremely handsome. Of course he had his humor as a redeeming quality, something that Enjolras's best friend, Jehan, treasured. Courfeyrac was bragging about his impressive range and extensive repertoire to the new owner's when he is asked to perform his magnificent Tenor aria that is sung in the second act of that night's performance.

"Oh I couldn't! I'm not warmed up!" He tried to be humble and deny an opportunity to show off. When no one insisted on him singing, he said, "Well I suppose I could." Jehan couldn't help but ogle at his dreamy smile. Enjolras shook his head. He hated watching his best friend drool over someone like Courfeyrac. After clearing his throat, Courfeyrac began to sing.

"God on high, hear my prayer. In my need you have always been there." His voice was like honey, sweet and smooth. Jehan melted as he mouthed the words along with his little crush. "He is young, he's afraid." Courfeyrac sauntered toward Jehan and stroked his face, making Jehan faint. Thankfully Enjolras caught him, shooting glare at the flirty Tenor. "Let him rest, heaven blessed!" with gusto he continued. "Bring him home! Bring him-" Out of nowhere, one of the backdrops fell from the rafters crushing Courfeyrac. He wailed and whined pathetically, flailing his arms, begging for help. The new owners of the Opera House, Marius and Cosette, rushed to his aid.

"Oh sweetheart!" Cosette comforted him upon wriggling him out from under the backdrop. "Are you okay? Marius, get him in a chair!" She frantically ordered.

"He's here! The Phantom of the Opera!" Jehan squeaked to Enjolras

"Ugh!" Courfeyrac growled "I am done!"

"Oh Courfeyrac, darling, these sort of things happen!" Cosette assured him, soothing ringing her hands through his curly hair.

"That's the problem! I cannot be in a place that is haunted by a damn ghost that for some reason hates me! These thing do happen but until they stop, this thing doesn't happen!" He stood and started away. "I'm out of here!" The diva cried leaving the stage.

Cosette sobbed into Marius's shoulder. "Father will be so disappointed! On our first day we lose the star! How will we go on? We have a sold out show!" Cosette's sweet voice was muffled by Marius's chest. "How are we going to find someone as talented as Courfeyrac for tonight's performance?"

As if waiting for Cosette to ask, Jehan rose his hand shyly. Marius nodded acknowledging he was listening. "Enjolras could sing it!"

Turning bright red, Enjolras shook his head making his golden curls bounce.

"He's been well taught" Another voice came from behind him. Eponine. She was an ugly little thing with dark-dead eyes and tan skin. Enjolras, still bashful, countered the compliment.

"Really, no one can replace Courfeyrac, especially not a chorus mem-"

"Sing for us." Marius suddenly interrupted. Cosette nodded in encouragement,. When he turned to Jehan he was given a pearly smile and another nod urging him to sing.

"Um... ok? The Aria from act two?" He asked cautiously.

"Go on." The orchestra struck the first chord waiting to accompany him.

"God on high, hear my prayer! In my need you have always been there." His voice was richer and fuller than Courfeyrac's. Much more powerful and dramatic.

"He is young. He's afraid. Let him rest, heaven blessed! Bring him home! Bring him home! Bring him home." Jehan was so proud of his friend. The cast was enraptured by his voice. It was like a whirl wind, before he knew it he was singing to a full house.

The crowd was in awe, Jehan was watching from off stage and his teacher, where ever he maybe, was listening. Someone else was in the audience, a friend from his childhood, someone who he considered his childhood sweetheart. Yes, he was gay even as a child.

"He's like the son I might have known, if God had granted me a son. The summers die, one by one. How soon they fly on and on. And I am old and will be gone." At this point there was not a dry eye in the audience.

"Bring him peace! Bring him joy! He is young, he is only a boy." His voice was in a deadly whisper. Combeferre, the friend from his childhood, who he considered his sweetheart, was reminded of the love he tried desperately to cast away, but not forget, never forget.

"You can take! You can give! Let him be, let him live. If I die, let me die!" Now Jehan was crying hysterically, obnoxiously and almost loud enough to hear in the front row. "Let him live, bring him home! Bring him home! Bring him home." He held the final note as long as his lungs would allow while still maintaining his strength. When at last he released with fluttering vibrato, the crowd roared absurdly.

"Bravo!" Combeferre chimed from his box. The sound of the familiar voice caught Enjolras's attention. He looked toward the box catching, with a glimmer in his eye, Combeferre, the boy he had sworn to marry years and years ago under the willow tree. They traded friendly smiles before Enjolras realized the applause was fading and he was to exit long before it was silence. One last glance and he was gone.

Jehan greeted him with a hug when he reached the wing space. "Who was that boy I caught you staring at?" Jehan smirked. Only Jehan could catch someone looking at one person in a crowd of thousands and recognize the flicker of attraction in their eyes. Enjolras, who was always uncomfortable about romance and sexuality, answered shyly.

"Combeferre." He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "Just some boy I used to know from when I was little. We were sort of... in love? You could say. Well you would say." Enjolras said poking fun at Jehan's obsession with romance. Jehan swooned and twirled around before rushing down the stairs to the backstage area.

Someone tapped Enjolras's shoulder, startling him. When he whirled around to see who it was, he found Eponine. "Sir." She offered him a familiar red flag. "I was told to give this to you." Enjolras thanked her and snatched the flag before running down to his dressing room

Enjolras was kneeling in his dressing room talking to no one when Jehan snuck up behind him.

"Who're you talking to?" He sat beside him gracefully. When Enjolras took too long to answer, Jehan moved on. "I forgot to tell you that you were lovely tonight. I can't believe you can sing so beautifully! Tell me, who is your teacher, Eponine raves about him all the time, but never gives me his name." He reflected sadly. "I'd like to take lessons from him; my teacher has lost her touch." He moped.

"Oh Jehan, you really don't need lessons, you're the best singer I know!"

"Enjolras." He knew what Enjolras was doing, carefully dancing around the subject.

"Fine. But I don't know his name either! Aside from the fact that he is the Angel of Music, I don't know too much about him." Enjolras stood up to pace. He had a very short temper and Jehan's pushiness was testing his nerves.

"Angel of music? You can't be serious! Wasn't that a fairy tale your dad would tell you to get you to shut up about politics and sleep?"

Enjolras's nostrils flared. "No, he's real! My father said when he died he'd send him to me! And he did!" Jehan looked rattled by Enjolras's gruffness. "Sorry." He spat. Jehan wasn't pleased with this apology so he turned away quickly and left.

As he left he brushed past Combeferre who looked dashing as usual. "Combeferre!" Enjolras was surprised by his visit.

"So you do remember me!" He laughed lightly and approached Enjolras. "You look well." He complimented.

"Thank you. You look- nothing short of lovely." He teased getting Combeferre to laugh again.

"Thank you. I knew you were a good singer, Enjolras. But I didn't know you were great."

"I think that was a compliment." Enjolras retorted tidying up his desk. Combeferre looked suddenly cross.

"Where is your flag? You can't have lost it! Not after all I did to get it for you!" He joked

"That's right! It blew away when were by the sea, and you ran in to get it. I was so upset and then you dove into the ocean and gave it to me, soaking wet, and I kissed you." Enjolras blushed at the last part. "Thank you for bringing it to me, again." Combeferre beamed at him and nodded as if to say 'You're Welcome'.

"Still doing social activism on the side, I see." he looked over his shoulder at the stacks of petitions. "I've been focusing on gay rights lately; I intend to make my love as legal as it is true." He was always philosophical and poetic like that.

"I haven't had a lot of time as of late, what with singing and all."

"Yes, a voice like that must take all your focus. You're quite amazing, it's like you were visited by that angel of music your father would tell us about when you would rant about politics." Enjolras thought: Did he rant that much? He shook the thought away.

"Well I have been visited by the Angel of Music!" He blurted. At first Combeferre's eyes were wide and shocked. Then he came to his senses.

"You and your fantasies! Always with your idealism! If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to catch up over dinner. What'd you say?" Enjolras gulped. He thought about what his teacher would say.

"No, no, 'Ferre. I couldn't the Angel of Music is very strict." He seemed very frantic.

"I won't keep you out late! C'mon, I'll leave you to get dressed."

Combeferre offered his grin before trotting off with a bit of boyishness that hadn't left him from when they were kids. How would the Angel react to this other man?

Just then, Enjolras heard the bone-chilling sound of his melodic tone, it was him! The Angel of Music. Even though he was sent by his father, he was scary. "That fool!" He scowled. "Who is he to bask in my triumph?" He scoffed.

"I'm sorry about him, he's an old friend." He apologized. "Please show yourself, I want to see you." He begged. Enjolras looked around for the source of the voice.

"My Apollo, look in your mirror." Enjolras turned to face the mirror. There he was, ink black curls tangling on his head, nearly olive skin, piercing blue eyes and a white mask curving across half of his face. He was sickly thin and average height. For some reason he was electrifyingly attractive. "I am you're Angel of Music, come to me Angel of Music." Enjolras couldn't resist. He advanced.

Combeferre pounded on the door. "Enjolras! Who's voice is that? Who's that in there?" He cried. When he flung the door open, he was too late, Enjolras was gone.